Fangirls, UnSubs and Classic Cars
by criminalxxxmindsxxxfreak
Summary: Prentiss and JJ have been reading the "Supernatural" books and have become quite taken with the characters of Sam and Dean. They're upset that they may never find out what happens after Dean is dragged to Hell in the last book, until a simple case turns into the meeting of a lifetime for the two fangirls. Oneshot. Bit of a crack-fic.


**Title: **Fangirls, UnSubs and Classic Cars

**Rating: **T

**A/N: **I have no idea what possessed me to write this little bit of insanity, but I will say that it was extremely fun to write.

I'll warn you now it is a bit (or more than a bit) cracky and totally not to be taken seriously. I'm sure in reality JJ and Prentiss probably aren't such fangirls, but I couldn't resist. The temptation was too great.

Anyway, this is a semi-serious, semi-crack-fueled little story that I hope you guys enjoy. Set somewhere in mid-to-late season 6 for both shows.

Please review!

* * *

**Fangirls, UnSubs and Classic Cars**

* * *

JJ leaned back in her seat on the jet, book in hand, and smiled contentedly as she turned the pages of the somewhat worn paperback. Across from her, Prentiss did the same, although her expression was more one of distress as she neared the end of her book.

Morgan plopped down next to Prentiss and frowned, leaning over to look at the pages.

"What are you reading?" he asked curiously.

Prentiss didn't answer, flipping the page and leaning back to show him the cover of the book. At first glance, Morgan couldn't even tell what genre the book was.

"_No Rest for the Wicked_?" he raised a brow, tilting his head and studying the cover. It looked like any dime-store supernatural romantic novel and he frowned. "A _Supernatural_ novel? What is that? Some cheap _Twilight _knock-off?"

JJ looked up from her book, a shocked expression on her face, "God no!" she said, "The Supernatural books are _nothing _like _Twilight_!"

Morgan blinked and ducked his head to look at the cover of her book, realizing that both women were reading the same thing, except that while JJ was only about halfway through her copy, Prentiss was only a handful of pages from the end. Shaking his head, the profiler chuckled slightly at the defensive looks on both of their faces.

"Alright, alright, calm down," he said, "No offense. What are they about then?"

Prentiss sighed and stuck her bookmark into the well-worn pages, "Two brothers," she said, "They hunt demons and vampires and things."

"So… _Buffy_, but with dudes as the main vampire hunters?" Morgan asked.

JJ sighed, "Close enough," she said, "But better than _Buffy_."

Morgan snorted, "Nah, come on, who could be better than _Buffy: The Vampire Slayer_?"

"Sam and Dean," Prentiss answered immediately.

JJ nodded, "Sam and Dean," she agreed.

"Right," Morgan smiled, "Fine. I'll let you two get back to your book. Hey, let me know how it ends, alright?"

Neither of them responded as they turned back to their books and became once more immersed in the world of Sam and Dean.

* * *

About ten minutes later, the entire team looked up at Prentiss' angry cry of "What the hell? !" and a second later, she violently threw the book into the seat next to JJ, shaking her head in annoyance.

JJ paused in her reading and looked over at the dark haired woman, "That bad?"

Prentiss' jaw was tight and she shook her head, "Worse. Unbelievably worse."

JJ hesitated and looked down at the book warily, "…Does Lilith get away?"

Prentiss snorted, "Worse," she repeated, "Are you sure that's the last book?"

"The last one published," she answered, "There are rumors that he wrote more, but they never made it to publication. The publishing house went bankrupt before anything new made it."

Prentiss sighed, "As soon as we finish this case, we're getting Garcia to track down Carver Edlund. If he's written more books, I'm reading them."

JJ smiled, "If anyone can find him, Garcia can," she said.

"Don't you two think you might be taking this a little too far?" Rossi asked questioningly.

"No!" both women turned incredulous eyes on the older man and he nodded, shrinking back from their wide eyes.

"Okay then…"

* * *

They were only in town for a week, the case was relatively small as far as media went, which gave JJ plenty of time to catch up on her reading in between breaks in the case. It still took her the entire week to finish, however, because focusing on the case _was _more important than whether or not Sam, Dean, Bobby and Ruby managed to save Dean's soul from Hell. At least, that's what she told herself to get through the lapses in reading.

She finally finished the book their last night in town, after the case had been solved. She was rooming with Prentiss at the small hotel they were staying in, lying on her stomach with her feet propped up against the headboard.

Prentiss was on her phone, texting Garcia back and forth when she heard JJ's spluttered, choked gasp of shock and set her phone aside.

"Finished?" she asked, raising a brow.

JJ swallowed roughly and sat up; her blue eyes wide as she let the book flip closed of its own accord and just shook her head.

"…How can it just…? I thought for sure they'd be able to… Dean…!" the last word was almost a strangled sob and she leaned heavily against the headboard, staring at Prentiss with horrified eyes.

"We have _got _to track down Carver Edlund," she said seriously, "The story can't just _end _there!"

Prentiss smiled, "Already got Garcia on it," she said, "She said Edlund is just a pseudonym, but it shouldn't take her too long to find his real name and address."

* * *

"Are you alright?" Reid sat next to JJ on the flight back to Quantico the next morning, watching her curiously. She was quiet and staring out the window pensively, which wasn't usually like her. Usually, once a case was solved, JJ was brighter on the flights home. At least, when a case had ended as well as this one had anyway.

JJ smiled and Reid couldn't help thinking her smile seemed sad.

"Sorry, Spence," she said, "I'm fine. Just… thinking."

Reid raised a brow, "About anything important?"

She laughed, "Not really, just… finished reading that book last night and my favorite character didn't make it."

Prentiss raised a brow, leaning forward, "Favorite character? Who Dean?"

JJ grinned a bit, "Of course!" she said, "Why? Who's your favorite?"

Prentiss snorted, "Sam, obviously," she said, "He's like a badass nerd…"

JJ smirked a bit, "You mean a badass version of Reid?"

Reid blanched and looked away when Prentiss's face turned a bit pink and she shook her head, "You know what I mean! Sam is _amazing_. What he's been through? I feel so bad for him, I mean, the moving around, wanting to be normal but never being able to… and then he finally gets that and it all just shatters and he gets sucked back into that world. Sam is easily the most remarkable character in the books,"

JJ snorted, "Please, he'd be dead if it weren't for Dean! And look where that got Dean! He's in Hell now!"

Prentiss frowned, "That's not Sam's fault! He never asked Dean to make the deal!"

"Of course he didn't," JJ argued, "He didn't have to! Sam's his little brother; he's not just going to let him die!"

"You two do know they're fictional characters, right?" Morgan interjected from the seat behind them, smirking a bit.

"Shut up!" they both snapped at the same time, giving Morgan twin looks of annoyance before delving into their discussion on Sam and Dean's relationship that lasted the entire flight home.

Reid, still sitting next to JJ, listened in fascination and surprise. Eventually, the two finally settled their argument by agreeing that both Sam and Dean were amazing and, for some reason Reid wasn't certain of, Emily and JJ's friendship at least wouldn't suffer with them arguing over which character belonged to either of them.

Reid was half tempted to ask exactly _how _either of them planned to "own" a character from a book, but decided against it, remembering how defensive they'd gotten earlier.

He did, however, clear his throat as they were getting ready to land, "Do either of you have copies of the other books in the series?"

Prentiss smiled, "I have every book," she said. "Why? You want to borrow them?"

Reid smiled a little awkwardly and nodded, "You two made me curious. I want to know what's so amazing about them."

"I'll bring them tomorrow," Prentiss promised. "But be prepared to cry… Or, whatever it is nerdy geniuses do when overwhelmed with emotion."

* * *

It took Reid two days to read the entire "Supernatural" series. Two days, not because he couldn't have read them faster, but because he'd had to pause between reading some of the books to call JJ or Prentiss. And by the time he'd finished "No Rest for the Wicked", Spencer Reid was a full-fledged Supernatural fan.

Prentiss leaned back in her chair, shaking her head, "We've turned him into a total fanboy, JJ," she said.

JJ shook her head, "Reid was _always _a fanboy," she said, "Tell me you don't remember his ten minute monologue about Star Trek?"

"True," Prentiss conceded, "But now he's a Supernatural fanboy. He'll never be the same."

Reid sighed and looked up from the consult he was doing, "Do either of you realize that I can still hear you?"

"That's why we're talking," Prentiss teased before turning back to JJ, "We should get Garcia to read them. She'd _love _Dean."

JJ thought about it, "No way," she said, "Garcia would be a Dean Girl and there's no way I'm fighting _her _for my man."

"He's not _real_," Morgan interjected, shaking his head at the two of them.

"He's real in here," JJ put her hand over her chest, smiling, "And that's what matters."

Morgan sighed and rolled his eyes, "You two have gone off the deep end."

* * *

Garcia's search for Carver Edlund turned out to be a dead end. She found his real name, Chuck Shurley, and his address as well, but it had been abandoned, no forwarding address and his cellphone was cut off. The last time he'd been seen for sure was an appearance at a Supernatural convention where he'd promised more books were coming soon.

After that, it appeared that Chuck had fallen off the face of the earth.

"Sorry, girls," Garcia had reported sadly, "But apparently even my infinite and amazing powers of technological wonderment can't find your writer."

Prentiss and JJ had sadly resigned themselves to suffering with this really being the end of "Supernatural", but, as Garcia had pointed out, there was always fanfiction to help ease the pain.

* * *

It was a month later when Prentiss was frowning over her computer one morning, coffee in one hand, eyes scrunched together as she read.

"You know," she glanced over at Reid, "The amount of Sam and Dean incest on this site disturbs me."

Reid blinked and glanced up at her over the consult he'd just opened.

"What?"

"The Supernatural fanfiction archive," Prentiss elaborated, "I've been reading stories on here and… the sheer amount of Sam and Dean romance makes me question my faith in humanity."

Reid frowned, brows scrunching together as he stared at her like he didn't quite understand what she was saying.

"But… I thought… Sam and Dean are brothers, aren't they?"

Prentiss smiled a bit, "Yes," she said, "That's what makes this so disturbing."

JJ interrupted their discussion, zooming by them with a folder in her hands, "Guys we've got a case. Call just came in."

* * *

"Case" was a bit too strong of a word to use, really. The local authorities had apparently already caught their killers, two men whose names weren't in the file JJ had been sent.

What they needed the BAU's help with was finding the missing girl, Amanda Reynolds, before she died. They'd found three mutilated bodies in the past few weeks and Amanda was the most recent disappearance.

They'd caught the two men in Reynolds' house the night she went missing after a harried and shaken 911 call. They found traces of her blood in the bedroom, their fingerprints everywhere, not to mention the arsenal they'd discovered in the trunk of their car. It was more than enough to hold them.

Trouble was, the men refused to cooperate and denied everything. With time running out, they'd called in the feds to put the pressure on them.

"This them?" Hotch had asked as they were led back to the interrogation rooms. The men had been placed in separate rooms across the hall from each other.

Prentiss glanced into both rooms as the Sheriff talked, explaining that the men had refused to even give their names and every ID they'd found on them was false. They were running the prints as they spoke, but it would be a couple more hours – apparently a storm had knocked power out for a few hours which left them with no way to run the prints through AFIS.

The man on the left was leaning forward in his seat, cuffed hands resting on the table top, smug expression on his face as he looked around the room. Every couple of seconds she saw his eyes flicker to the camera that was monitoring his every move and then back to the two-way mirror.

As she watched, he leaned forward toward the mirror and smirked, _"Would it kill you guys to bring me a freakin' snack! I'm starving in here!"_

She made a face and shook her head at the man's arrogance and turned to look at the other. He was slumped forward in his seat, hands resting on the table as well, though he was twisting a piece of paper between his fingers from a notepad that had been left there. He looked, at first glance, bored, but upon careful study she realized what he really looked was … weary. Just completely tired.

What she didn't see in either man was anxiousness, which surprised her a bit. Usually when dealing with partners, one of them – the submissive one – tended to crack and guilt came through readily. She was willing to bet the guy on the left was the dominant partner, but the man on the right didn't show any signs of cracking, any signs of guilt at all. Or nervousness, either. He just looked exhausted and fed up with… the world.

She turned back to listen to Hotch and the Sheriff, "That one there," he said, pointing at the man on the left, "Real arrogant sonuvabitch. He won't talk 'cept to smart off or flirt with the female officers. And his partner –" he turned and pointed to the other man, "Just won't talk. All he'll say is they're innocent and there was a misunderstanding."

Hotch frowned and nodded, "Alright. We'll see what we can figure out. Prentiss, why don't you talk him," he pointed to the man on the left and Prentiss groaned internally. "Reid, you take the other."

Reid seemed a bit surprised that Hotch had asked him to do the interview, but quickly realized why. The other man was quiet, clearly not the dominant partner and would probably respond better to Reid than to someone like Morgan.

Reid and Prentiss didn't wait to hear Hotch's instructions to the rest of them, taking the file that they'd read on the short flight over and entering their respective interview rooms.

* * *

Prentiss held the file in her hands as she stepped into the interrogation room and glanced at the man. He smiled at her brightly, no sign of stress, guilt or even any evidence that being in handcuffs bothered him at all. Either he had been arrested before or he had no conscience. Possibly both.

"Well, hello," he smirked at her, green eyes twinkling and Prentiss fought the urge to narrow her eyes in annoyance.

"I'm SSA Emily Prentiss," she said, slipping into the seat across from him, "FBI."

He sat up a bit straighter then, eyes going wide for a fraction of a second before settling into his cool façade of nonchalance.

"A fed? What, too big for the local cops to handle?"

Prentiss just smiled at him, shrugging, "They want to find Amanda," she said, "Since you weren't cooperating –"

"I'm cooperating to the best of my ability, sweetheart," he cut her off. "If I knew where that chick was, I'd tell you, but I don't have a clue."

Prentiss grit her teeth, ignoring the way he called her 'sweetheart' and how pissed that made her. _Play along; _she hissed at herself, _this is about finding Amanda Reynolds, not your stupid pride._

"I'd like to believe you," she said easily, meeting his gaze with her own and keeping her gentle smile in place. "But you're not exactly giving me much to work with, you know? I mean, how are we supposed to trust you if you won't even tell us your name?"

He smirked, shaking his head, "Oh, no, sweetheart," he said, "I tell you my name that'll just bring down a whole 'nother set of problems for me."

Prentiss raised a brow, "If you've been arrested before, your prints are gonna be in the system," she said, "And I'm pretty sure this isn't your first time in handcuffs."

"Kinky," he mused, leaning back in his seat, light smile playing on his lips, "Usually don't get into the really dirty stuff though, sweetheart. A man's got his self-respect, after all."

Prentiss really, _really _wanted to show him where he could shove his 'self-respect' and demand to know exactly what gave him the impression that she was in any way his 'sweetheart', but again she bit her tongue. This was about finding Amanda.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she sat the file on the table between them and opened it casually, another spark of annoyance flaring up when he didn't so much as blink.

"Look," she said, dropping her smile and getting serious, "Maybe you haven't realized this, but the charges against you are pretty serious right now. We've got fingerprints and DNA, not to mention you and your partner were at the scene of the crime and enough weapons in your trunk to supply a small army."

He snorted wordlessly and shrugged, keeping eye contact the entire time.

"We've got enough to book you with kidnapping, assault and unlawful possession of firearms. That's not even mentioning the false IDs we found on you," she continued, holding his gaze, keeping her voice quiet and trying to remain as sympathetic sounding as possible.

She sighed when he still didn't respond, giving her a look that pretty much said, "Yeah, and…?"

"…With Amanda's disappearance being tied to the other murders, that puts you in line for Murder One," she said, "But if you tell us where Amanda is, we can talk to the DA, see if we can swing a deal…?"

Again, nothing, no reaction. She huffed in frustration, "Maybe it wasn't your fault," she said gently, though every profiling instinct told her there was no way in hell this guy was an unwitting accomplice to anything. He was an arrogant son of a bitch; no way could he take following orders from someone "lesser" than him.

"Maybe you didn't know what was going to happen; maybe you just got in over your head. But whatever happened, not talking is only going to make it worse."

There was another beat of silence and Prentiss thought that he was just going to remain that way for the rest of the interview, but once he was certain she was finished he leaned forward and his eyes twinkled at her, dimples popping when he smiled.

"Well, that would be very nice, Agent," he said, "If… I had anything to do with what happened to those girls. But I don't know where Amanda is, I can't tell you what happened to the other girls. But you've got the wrong guys here. We're innocent. More than innocent, actually. We're the good guys. I'd say we're on the same side, but from my experiences with the feds, you guys don't really think anyone's on your side but you so…"

He leaned back, a small smirk on his face, expecting Prentiss to finally drop her sympathy act and surprised when instead she gave him a slightly confused, careful stare, like she was trying to read his mind.

"…What?" he frowned then, rubbing his chained hands over his face and through his hair, "Is there something on my face?"

Prentiss blinked and shook her head slowly, "…No, no. You just… reminded me of someone for a second…"

He raised a brow, wondering who she could be thinking of, "Must be someone pretty awesome," he smirked, eyes twinkling again.

Her brows furrowed in concentration, arguing with herself internally. She started to say something else when the door was opened and the Sheriff walked in, carrying a file.

"Prints came back," he said, "You're not gonna believe this, but Mr. Smartass over here is supposed to be dead. Name's Dean Winchester, supposed to have died in a gas explosion in a jail about three years ago."

He fixed Dean with a hard look, eyes narrowed at him, "Real piece of work. Wanted for armed robbery, breaking-and-entering, theft, fraud, murder. You name it, he's done it."

Prentiss frowned thoughtfully taking the file from the Sheriff and flipping it open as he continued talking.

"Real lucky sonuvabitch to get out of that explosion alive," he said, still eyeballing Dean, who had looked vaguely pissed at the news that they now had his name, but otherwise remained quiet. Prentiss glanced up at his face, frowning. He was thinking, she could tell. The wheels in his brain turning so fast yet the surface didn't give away anything, but he was panicking now.

"The partner across the hall's his brother," the Sheriff went on, "Sam Winchester. Real twisted sons-a-bitches."

He sneered and Dean just gave him a sarcastic look, but Prentiss' head jerked up.

"What was that?"

"What?" the Sheriff frowned, watching the agent's face carefully, "I was saying the two of them –"

"I heard you," Prentiss cut him off, holding her hand up, "I mean… the partner, his brother, what was his name?"

"Sam," the Sheriff was eyeing Prentiss like there was something wrong with her now, "Sam Winchester. Why does that –"

Prentiss looked back at Dean with a frown on her face.

_No,_ she told herself, _come on, Emily, that's insane. It's just a coincidence. Sam and Dean aren't _that _uncommon names._

"Is the report on the gas explosion in here?" she asked, already flipping through the files anyway, barely registering the Sheriffs grunt in the affirmative.

Dean leaned forward curiously, watching the agent flipping through the folder before her eyes rested on what she had been looking for. She was muttering to herself, frowning, and if he listened carefully he could hear what she was saying.

"…Victor Henricksen… Calvin Reidy… Steven Groves… Nancy Fitzgerald… Melvin Dodd…"

Dean raised a brow. The people who'd died? Why was that important?

Snatching the sheet from the file, Prentiss jumped from her seat, "Has Agent Reid seen this yet?"

The Sheriff shook his head, "I was just gonna drop the other file off to him –"

"I'll do it," she snatched the file he lifted and darted out of the room, leaving the Sheriff and Dean alone and confused as she rushed across the hall.

* * *

Reid sighed and sat back, fingering the file. The man across from him was just not budging. He wouldn't say his name, wouldn't implicate his partner, wouldn't even admit to anything. He insisted that they were innocent and that he couldn't tell him what he was doing in Amanda's apartment.

The scary thing was, Reid thought he might have been honest. He didn't know why, there was just something in the man's eyes that made him want to trust him.

Then Prentiss came bursting through the door, file under her arm, eyes on a sheet of paper.

"Reid!" she blinked at him, looking half-frantic, "Quick, remind me, what were the characters' names who died at the end of "Jus in Bello"? It's important!"

"Are you… alright, Prentiss?" Reid slid his chair back a fraction of an inch, turning concerned eyes on the dark haired agent. "I –"

"Damn it, Reid!" she snapped, "Just tell me who died! It's important, I promise you!"

Reid swallowed roughly, taken aback by her abrupt shout and nodded, thinking back for a second to that book and taking a breath.

"Just the ones who died in the explosion?" he asked carefully.

She nodded vigorously, clutching the paper like her life depended on it.

"Victor Henricksen, Nancy Fitzgerald and Deputy Amici were the only _named _characters who died in the explosion, but according the news report the following day, Sheriff Dodd, Steven Groves and Calvin Reidy were also named as victims… Why?"

Prentiss had gone white as she stared at the paper and Sam was sitting up in his seat, eyes wide now. He didn't recognized all of those names, but he remembered Nancy very clearly and Henricksen as well.

_Shit,_ he swore to himself, _the prints came back already._

He had really been counting on him and Dean having more time to think of a way out of this before they realized that they were the presumed dead Winchester brothers.

"…And Sam and Dean," she said, causing Sam's head to whip back to her face. She was pale, her dark eyes wide. She looked like she was in shock, honestly.

"Well…" Reid hesitated, "That was the official story, but they didn't actually die."

Prentiss shook her head, "No, that's not what I meant," she said, "I meant… Sam and Dean Winchester died in a gas explosion in the prison they were being held in along with Deputy FBI Director Steven Groves, FBI agent Victor Henricksen, his partner Calvin Reidy, Secretary Nancy Fitzgerald, Sheriff Melvin Dodd…"

She passed Reid the paper and Sam leaned forward, eyes wide and confused. He decided to stay silent, still not one hundred percent sure what was going on here or why either of the agents looked so freaked. Was it because they were supposed to be dead?

"…But this… this is impossible!" Reid's voice rose to an ungodly pitch for a moment as he studied the paper.

"That's what I said," Prentiss nodded, "But trust me, it's not. These two are brothers," she said, "Sam and Dean Winchester. I skimmed through the file. Their mother's name was Mary, father was John. The car they've got impounded with the arsenal in the trunk? 1967 Chevy Impala."

Reid's hazel eyes got so round they nearly bugged out of his head.

"No…"

"Yes," Prentiss nodded seriously.

Some strange understanding that Sam was left out of passed between them and Reid was out of his seat and following Prentiss from the interrogation room, leaving Sam alone to wonder what the hell had just happened.

* * *

"This is insane," Morgan muttered from inside the observation room. "Sam and Dean are fictional characters. _This _Sam and Dean are nut-case murderers."

"Shut up," JJ frowned, standing next to him, "You didn't read the books, Derek. Trust me, this fits the stories exactly."

"Coincidence," Morgan muttered.

"No such thing," JJ snapped.

"You two be quiet!" Hotch turned to give them both a stern glare and Morgan sighed, nodding and turning his attention back to the interrogation room where Dean Winchester was sitting, slumped back in his chair, looking bored.

As they watched, the door to the interrogation room opened and in marched Prentiss, with Sam.

"Sammy!" Dean looked surprised to see his brother, eyes flickering to Prentiss and then back to Sam as Reid pulled a chair out for Sam next to Dean.

"Now?" JJ asked, giving Hotch a questioning look.

The Unit Chief didn't speak, just nodded, watching with a curious frown on his face as the blond woman disappeared from the room.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Hotch?" Rossi asked quietly as soon as she was gone.

"No," Hotch said, "But do you want to try arguing with them?"

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" Dean demanded as Sam sat down, turning to frown at Prentiss. "I thought there were rules about this kinda thing or something?"

"There are, Dean," Sam nodded, "I don't know what they're doing."

"What we're doing," JJ said as she entered the room, holding a bag in her arms. "Is testing a theory."

"A theory?" Sam frowned, raising a brow.

"Yes," Prentiss said, "Agent Reid's here to be our fact-checker, really. He's got a better memory than JJ and me."

Sam and Dean just stared at the agents, "Fact checking for what?" Sam asked, raising a brow.

JJ smiled and upturned the bag she had, spilling several worn paperbacks onto the table. Curiously, Dean reached forward and grabbed one, "_Everybody Loves a Clown_ a _Superna-_ Ah, come on!"

He threw the book back to the able and looked up at JJ and Prentiss, "You gotta be kidding me,"

Sam sifted through the books, shaking his head. "It's all of 'em," he said, "Every book Chuck ever had published."

Dean sighed, eyeing the two women with a frown, "So what? You two want an autograph?"

"Not exactly," JJ said, "We want to know why _your _lives are so similar to the lives of Sam and Dean in these books."

Dean snorted, "You wanna know why? Because Chuck freakin' took our lives and turned them into entertainment for people, that's why!"

"Not many people," Sam added under his breath.

"Eh," Dean shrugged, "Enough that we run into the two FBI agents who've read them."

"So… Chuck Shurley stole your life story and published them?"

Dean sighed, "Yeah," he said, "It's all true, alright. The demons, the ghosts, all of it."

"No," Sam sighed, frowning at Dean, "Not… exactly. I mean, the demons and ghosts thing is true, but Chuck is apparently some prophet of God or something and he'd have visions about our lives and them turn them into books. He thought they were dreams until he met us."

Prentiss raised a brow, "So these are things that _will _happen?"

"No," Dean picked up one of the books, studied it and let it drop back to the table, "They're things that _have_ happened. Past tense."

"For a man who was dragged into Hell you look pretty good right now," JJ said, studying Dean's face.

He flinched a bit, which she hadn't expected, but composed himself very quickly.

"Well, I got out," he said, shrugging. Sam made a face at him and Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring it.

"I knew it!" JJ couldn't help but grin a bit and then shook her head, clearing her throat. "Sorry…"

Prentiss raised a brow and shook her head, turning back to Dean, "So you just… got out of Hell?"

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, something passing between them that none of the agents could read and then they turned back to face Emily and JJ.

"Alright, look," Sam said, "We'll tell you everything that happened after Dean went to Hell –" Dean cleared his throat and Sam sighed, "Most of it anyway. Does that mean you'll believe us?"

Surprisingly, it was Reid who answered, "I would," he said quickly. "In fact I already do. It's possible for anyone to _pretend _to be characters from a book, but our technical analyst double checked all of your records. You two are Sam and Dean Winchester and every detail we can find about your lives matches what happens in the books perfectly. That's too big for a coincidence which makes the only logical conclusion that you two are the same Sam and Dean from the books."

They all just stared at Reid for a long moment before Dean blinked back into action, "Alright, so you'll believe us. What then?"

JJ and Prentiss glanced at each other, "Then we let you go,"

"What?" Sam frowned, confused.

"Then we let you go. You escape. Go fight whatever it is your fighting and bring Amanda Reynolds back to her family. Everyone wins."

Dean frowned, looking at his brother, "Think we can trust 'em?" he asked.

"I think it's our only shot at getting out of this," Sam said.

"Alright then… Guess we'd better start talking…"

* * *

For the next hour, Sam and Dean talked, trading turns telling their story – with considerable gaps and avoiding reliving any emotional scenes that they'd had.

JJ and Prentiss listened in captivated wonder, not caring that the boys were obviously holding back details, not caring that their stories were a bit jointed and jumped around a lot as one brother reminded the other of something he'd forgotten.

They were just thrilled to finally find out what happened after Dean had been dragged to Hell.

And once the hour was finished, the story told, the BAU kept their promise and Sam and Dean Winchester "escaped" from custody in the early hours of the night, somehow managing to free their car from the impound lot and recover their IDs.

Mysteriously, all records of the Winchesters having even been arrested vanished from the system. Mug shots, files, interrogation tapes. They were all just _gone._

And when the Sheriff, livid at having his two best suspects go missing, demanded an APB be put out on the Winchester brothers and that the FBI be notified that they were still at large, Prentiss had looked the man right in the eye and asked:

"What Winchester brothers?"

The next morning, Amanda Reynolds was returned home, shaken and a bit worse for the wear, but alive and talking non-stop about the two men who'd burst in and saved her from a group of vampires.

Shock, the doctors declared, and blood loss, had caused the poor girl to hallucinate.

But as the BAU climbed into their SUVs and headed to the air strip, Prentiss and JJ grinned broadly at the sight of a large, black Chevy Impala as it roared down the highway ahead of them, disappearing into the horizon.

* * *

**FIN**

* * *

**A/N: **And… done! Wow, that was a bit of a doozy. But oh so much fun to write. As I said, a bit cracky, a bit OOC, but hopefully interesting and enjoyable.

Please let me know what you think! Reviews = love!


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